


Sweet Dreams

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [570]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:15:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: lexibirds askedJohn and Alan napfic? Pretty please?





	Sweet Dreams

John rarely sleeps where others can see.  Alan had asked, once, when the world was big and John was a teenager on his way to MIT, and the rest of the family were snoring in various contortions, spread across the array of seats in Tracy One.

Only John and Alan had been left awake, and Alan was fading fast.  “I hate thinking people might be looking at me when I’m asleep,” John had muttered, almost drowning in the bags under his eyes.  “I just….not around other people.”  But he’d let Alan snuggle in close, use his thigh as a pillow.

Alan remembers drifting off there, only waking when the wheels had touched down in Boston.

Boston is half a world and half a lifetime away now.  The arc of the Milky Way is bright through the windows of the lounge, where only a single lamp now burns.

Alan was on his way to bed, leaden feet and gritty eyes, but he detours down the stairs to remind John where his barely used bedroom is.  But Alan pauses as he takes in the slumped sprawl, one leg up on the cushions, the other still on the rug.  John’s barefoot, his top button undone to reveal the slender column of his throat.  One hand is lax on his belly, the other trailing down onto the carpet.

He’s snoring, slightly.  John’s been Alan’s brother all his life, and he had no idea John snored.  “Hey, John, come on,” Alan whispers, sure John was still even somewhat awake.  John never, ever fell asleep where others could see.  “You’ll get a crick in your neck if you stay there. Hey, come on.”

John mumbles in his sleep, curling up to roll into the back cushions, turtling away from the world.

If Alan had had a day like John just had, he’d hide too.  Then again, Alan had been there for most of it, and he does want to hide too.

Snagging a blanket from the stash Gordon had slowly been developing under the western-most couch where he thinks no-one has noticed, Alan steps onto the couch and drops lightly down to his knees.  “Scoot over, hosepipe,” Alan mumbles as he tugs and pushes open an Alan-sized gap on the cushions.

He’s sure John’s still asleep, so Alan tugs the blanket over both of them as best he can before snuggling down, almost squeezed between John and the couch.  But then John’s sleep-heavy hand lands, dropping around Alan’s chest and tugging Alan in tight against John.

The snores never break beat.  “Sleep tight,” Alan slurs regardless, giving up and letting sleep take him.


End file.
